Mercy on Your Soul
by jillvalenfine
Summary: When she looks in the mirror, the face staring back is familiar, but it isn't hers. When he stares at the bottom of the glass, that's where he finds her. Set during and pre-RE5.
1. Prologue

Title is from 'O Death' by Jen Titus.

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"No!" she screams, and before she even knows what she's doing, her arms are around Wesker, the sound of breaking glass fills her ears, and she's falling in slow motion. The shards stuck in her hand and the cuts on her face are the least of her concerns.

"I'm sorry, Chris." she thinks, because she knows in her heart that she isn't going to survive this.

She hits the water, and she expects it to tear her to pieces, but it doesn't.

Jill is cold when she wakes up, and there's water in her lungs, and she's praying to every deity she can think of that it's over.

* * *

When backup arrives at the Spencer Estate, Chris is slumped over near the hole in the window. He's not even sure he remembers how to breathe. He doesn't know if it's been seconds, or hours or days.

Delta leader is asking him questions, and he doesn't know how he manages to wrap his mouth around the words. He's garbled, incoherent, and he's ready to vomit.

"Jill," he gasps, "Wesker, the window."

He hears something about a search party going to check the area as the room starts to fade, and his head collides with the floor.

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* * *

So basically this is a hypothetical [headcanonical?] account of what happened to Jill and Chris between the incident at the Spencer Estate and RE5, all wrapped up with a nice AU bow.

This should be fun :-))


	2. Chapter 1

Alright, so I'm hoping to settle into a rhythm for updates rather soon - I'm not sure how long this is gonna be, or how long it's gonna take to write, so bear with me.

This chapter is set a few months after the initial fall; and warning for mentions of fall trauma, broken bones and the like.

* * *

When Jill wakes up, she isn't sure how long she's been out, or why she's waking up in the first place. Her eyelids are heavy, and she thinks she's floating, even though her limbs feel like they're made of lead. Her eyes start to refocus, and the room is filled with a blinding white light.

_"Heaven?_" she thinks, and she isn't sure if the thought of it makes her comfortable or more afraid.

Jill takes a moment to observe herself, and looking down, she sees the tubes and wires that are keeping her alive, she sees her own body, marred and scraped, and there's a large gash near her left hand, and another like it on her knee. Most likely compound fractures.

She pictures her lifeless body washed up on the shore, wrists and ankles shattered, bones that weren't completely pulverized protruding from her mangled corpse at every imaginable angle. If the fall didn't kill her, she sure as hell should've bled out.

There's a feeling in her gut that she can't explain, and something isn't adding up. No one survives falls from that height.

She looks around again, and the stasis containers on the walls confirm her suspicions. This isn't heaven, this is hell, and she's absolutely terrified.

Something is buzzing, and a large platform in the middle of the room rises slowly to her height. The seconds that pass as it reaches her tick by like hours, and there are two people - she can't quite make out who - standing at the edge.

"Ah, good. You're awake," The familiar voice is like nails on a chalkboard, and she knows she's in trouble, dying would have been a gift. A woman that Jill doesn't recognize stands at the control panel, and the door hisses loudly as it opens. "and healing quite nicely, I see."

He runs a hand along her leg, examining the scars and contusions that have yet to fade away.

The only thing she can think to tell him is _"fuck you"_ but the words don't form, and all she can do is sputter weakly.

Wesker smiles, and gestures to the woman, who then presses a button, and Jill is falling into a crumpled heap on the platform. She curls herself up tighter to avoid further revealing herself, and the platform starts to rise again.

It stops, and she hears Wesker mention something about preparations.

"Get her dressed, Excella," he commands, as he walks towards the lift's exit. "She does look pitiful."

The woman reaches beside one of the monitors to pick up a black garment before walking in Jill's direction. Her white heels clink against the steel, and Jill finds herself wishing that one of them will catch on the floor and trip her.

"Come with me, Ms. Valentine" she says, offering a hand to help her up.

Reluctantly, she reaches up and takes the arm that's offered to her. Her legs are wobbly, but she manages to stand, crossing her arms over her chest. Excella hands her the robe and turns away, and Jill is grateful for the moment of privacy - however brief it may be.

"Thank you," she forces out, slipping her arms into the soft cloth, and Excella nods.

"You must be hungry," Excella tells her, sliding an arm around her back for support as she leads her to the exit. "Albert will be wanting to see you soon. It's in your best interest to be in the best shape possible."

Excella's voice seems distant, and Jill is ready to collapse again; if Wesker had wanted her dead, he could've left her there, let the authorities find her body.

Jill tells herself that maybe she's lucky. Maybe she's been given a chance to get in close and take him down from inside. She just needs to convince herself that it's the truth.


	3. Chapter 2

A rhythm for updates, they said. HA. Apologies. I was really set on actually finishing this fic. I just have to set aside the time now to make sure I do.

This chapter jumps backwards a bit. I'm running both characters on different timelines for the time being. Again, bear with me.

* * *

In the days following Jill's disappearance, the BSAA grants Chris a paid leave of absence.

For the first week, he doesn't leave his bed. He doesn't eat, and he doesn't answer his calls.

It's not until the ninth day, when Claire grows tired of being ignored that she takes matters into her own hands. His phone buzzes on the nightstand.

"I'm coming over." is all the text says.

She arrives at 10 am sharp, and lets herself into his apartment. The blinds are closed and the lights are off. The stench of depression has wasted no time in seeping into the walls. The sink is piled full of dirty dishes from before their brief deployment, and one of Jill's sweaters is strewn over a chair. Claire shakes her head, she never expected him to be so far gone.

Claire flips the hallway light on, and knocks quietly on the bedroom door.

"Chris? It's me." She cracks open the door when there's no reply.

"Fuck that's bright," he mumbles, pulling the sheet over his head. "close the door."

"Christopher, get out of bed."

Silence.

"Chris, I'm going to give you until the time I get the kitchen cleaned to get yourself cleaned up and dressed. I'm taking you for breakfast."

She pushes the door wide open, flooding the room with light, and hears her brother groan. As she picks up the laundry from the living room floor, she hears the water in the shower start to run.

When he finally emerges from the bedroom, he's shaven and clean, but his eyes are still sullen.

Claire takes him to the little breakfast dive down the street; he eats more than he thinks he's capable of with his shrunken, sickly stomach. Eggs over easy, sausage, bacon, toast. He finishes his plate, and helps his sister to finish hers. She sips her coffee, and Chris orders another glass of orange juice.

After she pays for breakfast, she walks him home.

"Thank you for this," he says, "maybe things might just turn out okay. They've gotta be close to finding her." Claire smiles at him, pleased by this sudden change in optimism. She wraps her arms around him and hugs him tightly.

"I know you're hurting, but I'm here for you. Whatever you need. I love you."

On the tenth day, he calls the BSAA, and tells them he's ready to return to active duty.


End file.
